Sleep, the Cousin of Death
by Jimperbam
Summary: Jim's on a roll-five sleepless days fueled by little more than a coffee mix with dangerously high caffeine levels. He's desperate not to sleep despite the adverse health effects he's experiencing, and Bones is about to find out why. Post-STID.


This is my I'm-sorry-I'm-a-lazy-poop apology fic for Can't Keep A Good Man Down. Hopefully we'll have some more of it soon. I'm very fond of Jim being in extreme emotional anguish, in case you haven't noticed. Hope you like it as much as I do. I dunno how this became so Mckirk, btw. Weird, man.

Disclaimer: No me ownsta.

* * *

He was hot. He would always remember that detail, because the metal chamber was chilly. His skin burned like he was under the summer sun in an Iowa cornfield. It burned even deeper than that.

He remembered dying. The nausea. The bone-deep pain. The way his head felt like it was holding his liquefied brain. The way his lungs felt heavy, probably from filling up with blood. Every word made his lips tingle unpleasantly, but it was so crucial that he speak. He had thoughts to pass on before the end. And the end was a slowly closing door-he still had things to say, but the door was closing anyway, and the light was fading, and then...

Jim blinked deliberately and took a big gulp of coffee. It was his own special blend. It was probably illegal on most planets, and it could definitely give a small animal a heart attack. It was perfect.

Alpha shift began, which meant those on Gamma shift could grab some breakfast before heading to bed. Jim left the conn to a cheery Sulu and meandered down to the cafeteria. He engineered himself a new large mug of coffee, drawing several surprised looks from passing crew when they saw the ingredients. He sat at an empty table with a full plate of food, took one look at the mound of eggs and bacon, and pushed it away in revulsion.

"Captain! If you're nae gonna eat that..." A passing Scotty reached for Jim's bacon with a sly grin. When Jim didn't protectively clutch at his plate as he always did when his food was threatened, Scotty raised an eyebrow. "Captain? You in there?"

"Hm? No, you can have it."

Scotty peered at Jim. "You've got bags, laddie. When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"I've been busy." Jim pounded half his drink. He shivered as an electric current surged through him. "And now I feel better! Really, Scotty, take it. I wasn't as hungry as I thought."

Scotty regarded Jim's mug suspiciously. "Mind if I sample?"

Jim grinned. "I don't think you can handle it."

"I resent that! This iron stomach hasn't come across a drink it cannae handle!" Scotty snatched up the cup and took a swig. His eyes shot open and he immediately spit out the concoction. Jim cackled.

"What is _in_ that?" Scotty coughed. "Jim, that's _vile_!"

"My own personal blend. It's a secret recipe."

"And exactly how many of those have you had?"

"Today?"

"James Kirk!"

"Ooh, pulling out the full name." Jim stood up and smirked at Scotty. "I've gotta go do captain things. Good day, Mr. Scott."

Jim escaped to his room. He dumped his clothes in the hamper and prepared for a long, hot shower. The steamy water was relaxing beyond words, and it eliminated the near-constant chill he'd experienced for the past five days. The heat seeped into his skin, loosened his muscles, even warmed him to the bone.

Jim jumped out of the stream and reset the temperature much cooler. The frigid droplets were almost painful to bear, but he faced it head on, hoping his heart rate would drop.

It didn't. He was shaking-was it from the cold water or the memories? His heartbeat hammered in his aching head. Jim launched himself out of the shower and fell hard on the floor. If he could just get something to drink, get his clothes back on, get back out there, it would be fine...

He succeeding in donning some pants. He groped for his mug and gulped it down, but instead of an energizing jolt, the brew made his chest explode in agony.

_Okay, bad idea._ Jim curled into a ball and sucked in as much air as possible. _Just another panic attack. Get through it. Calm down. Breathe..._

Very familiar footsteps tromped outside the door. Jim had no doubt as to who it was. He remembered those same steps from their Academy days. Their firm falls meant he was in trouble.

"Jim, open up!" Bones called irritably, banging on the door. "I know you're in there. Don't make me have to come in!"

It was less than three seconds between the time the door slid open and Bones skidded to his knees beside Jim. It was a comfort just to see Bones's face, even if Jim couldn't express it.

"Blood pressure-dammit, Jim! It's through the roof!" Bones's expert hands ghosted over certain areas of Jim's twitching body. "Are you havin' a heart attack?"

"N-No," Jim forced through tingling lips. God, were his lips tingling? It was hard to speak, but this time he didn't have anything to say.

Bones pried Jim out of his protective ball and forced him to lie flat on his back. "Just breathe," the doctor ordered. "Breathe. In, out. In, out. No, slower. Gotta get your heart rate down."

"Can't, Bones," Jim choked. "Help."

"I'm tryin', kid. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"P-Panic..."

"Oh, hell," Bones whispered. The one word was all he needed.

Bones pulled Jim up and held him tightly; not enough to hinder Jim's already labored breathing, but enough to reassure him of safety.  
"In and out, Jim, nice and slow. Like me, here, feel..." Bones put a hand on Jim's chest to regulate the pained gasps. He'd seen it in an old movie. He didn't know if it really worked, but he was desperate to get Jim calmed down.

Jim gave a low whine. The sound cut Bones deeply. He murmured, "Hey, kid, remember that trashy bar you dragged me to when we were cadets? Well, that's not very specific. The trashy bar with the six-armed bartender that hit on me all night, remember that?"

Though Jim's thoughts were hazy and chaotic, he was vaguely intrigued by the sudden trip down memory lane.

"And every five minutes I begged you to go, because you were surprisingly more drunk than me and I couldn't leave you to find your way home 'cuz you'd never make it. And finally you agreed, and we were almost out the door, but you just _had_ to get in a fight with a guy twice your size."

"Hah..." Jim breathed. He did remember.

"You got your ass kicked, but somehow managed to knock the guy out. I half-carried you home. You _shockingly_ refused to go to the infirmary, so I patched you up in our room. You were drunk and doped up on painkillers and you just started blathering about the dumbest stuff, Jim, and it was so funny. You told me that one time you stole your stepdad's car and drove it over a cliff."

Jim giggled. He hung on Bones's every word.

"It was about that time that I realized you were absolutely nuts and had been since you were little. I also realized that you are utterly incapable of taking care of yourself, and that that job fell to me by default."

"You've done a good job," Jim croaked.

"Hush. Keep breathing."

Jim revisited the night in question. He definitely didn't remember most of what happened after they got back to the dorm. He wondered what other random memories Bones had stored. After about five more minutes of contemplation, Jim let his head fall back on Bones's shoulder with a tired sigh.

"You alright?"

"Never better."

"Can you sit up?"

Bones propped Jim against the wall. It was then that he realized just how terrible Jim looked. He was pale and had bags under his eyes, but what bothered Bones the most was the lack of spark in those blue eyes.

"Now." Bones put on a shade of his normal glare. "You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?"

Jim looked down. "Not particularly."

"I wasn't exactly askin'. Scotty comes all the way to medbay and tells me you're drinking rocket fuel, and then I find you in a barely-breathing heap on the floor."

"Sorry. It wasn't supposed to happen."

"I'm not lookin' for apologies, Jim, I'm lookin' for an explanation!" Bones exclaimed, exasperated. "And another thing, you look terrible! When was the last time you slept?"

The question propelled Jim to action. He crawled to his dresser and dug for a clean uniform. "Recently," he mumbled over his shoulder.

"Jim, come back here! _How_ recently?"

"Recently, Bones, okay? And I'm not drinking _rocket fuel_, it's just coffee!"

"Is that so?" Bones snatched up the mug and examined its now cold contents. "We'll see about that."

"No, wait, Bones-!"

One mouthful of the mix had Bones coughing and retching. "What the _hell_ is this?" he demanded, eyes streaming. "It tastes like-God, it's awful!"

"Well, I like it. I gotta go." Jim retrieved the cup and rose.

"You must be out of your mind. I don't know how long you've been awake, but you need sleep. I'm confining you to bed rest until further notice."

"You can't do that!" Jim yelped. "I'm the captain!"

"And the captain is going to be on bed rest," Bones said with an awful air of finality.

"No, come on, you're being-listen, I can't just-Bones, will you listen to me? Please!"

Bones stopped and turned at Jim's tone. He watched Jim sink onto the bed, exhausted by the outburst. It struck him how fragile his normally vibrant captain appeared.

"I can't sleep," Jim whispered as though he was confessing something dark. "I can't. And when I do, I have nightmares."

Bones sat beside Jim and said gently, "Well kid, you should have said something. I can put you to sleep quicker than you can blink."

Jim shook his head miserably. "I don't want to sleep."

"Why not?"

"Because...Because sleep is the cousin of death."

Space's infinite silence filled the room. Bones swallowed hard and wished for words that wouldn't come. "Jim, I..."

"Five days. It's been five days since I last slept. I just couldn't take it anymore. Between the nightmares and the panic attacks, I figured I'd just stay awake forever."

"Jim, you...you can't just not sleep."

"Hey, with today's technology, anything is possible," he joked weakly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"This is why."

Bones took a deep breath. He fought the urge to retort sarcastically. "Alright," he said kindly. "We can fix this. We can make you sleep again."

"For now, maybe," Jim said dully. "I'll forget for now. But Bones, I..."

Bones yanked him into such a firm grip that Jim didn't know which of them was in more pain. "We're gonna fix it," he repeated. "I promise. You believe me?"

Jim nodded against his shoulder. "You always look out for me, Bones."

"Yeah, don't I know it. Now get comfy. I got some calls to make."

Jim complied. Being in his bed again made him squirm. He tossed and turned in an attempt to get comfortable while Bones made his calls outside. On a whim, he reached for his drink, but another hand smacked his.

"Don't even think about it," Bones scolded. "We're trying to get you to sleep. I've cleared both our schedules, so you're not gettin' out of this. And good lord, Jim, put on a shirt."

Jim smiled tiredly. He settled in under the covers. Bones forced him to drink a massive glass of water. "Anything else, doctor?"

"Yeah. Move over."

Jim complied. Bones shed his shoes and pants and lay down as well. Jim teased, "You gonna tell me stories 'til I fall asleep?"  
"That's the plan, smartass. What do you want to hear about?"

Jim closed his eyes. "Tell me about the peach harvest in Georgia."

Bones was surprised, but he obliged. He talked for hours about everything from peaches to the exact smell of the beach to the sound bacon makes when it's frying on a lazy Sunday morning. Jim lay there quietly with a soft smile, only speaking to prompt Bones to continue. Eventually the prompting stopped. Bones looked down, and there was Jim, fast asleep. Bones sighed in relief.

Jim slept through the day and the night, awaking naturally twenty hours later. He breathed deeply, slowly, and looked around as the dim room.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Bones greeted from over his PADD.

"Bones? You're still here?" Jim noticed Bones had a five o'clock shadow, and he was still in the same clothes as the other day. "Did you stay the whole time?"

"'Course I did. And I have good news. You made it."

Jim let the meaning of the words sink in and murmured, "Yeah. I guess I did."

"And you're gonna keep making it if we have anything to say about it."

"We?"

"Let's just say that I might not be your only attendant. I do have job, you know."

Jim groaned and rolled over. "I can't believe you!" he whined. "I don't need my issues all over the ship!"

"Quit crying, I was discreet. Now..." Bones rose and stretched. "I need a shower, and you have Beta shift. Make sure you eat first. You'll report back here at the end of your shift, and God help you if I have to come looking for you, Jim."

Bones was so close to freedom when Jim attached himself to his back. Bones sighed and waited it out.

"Thank you," Jim mumbled.

"Don't thank me, kid. Watchin' out for you is what I do."

* * *

Jim enjoyed a giant breakfast and an easy shift. He'd forgotten how nice it was to be as coherent as the rest of the crew. They conversed and joked all afternoon, and Jim didn't think about dying once.

He took Bones's threat very seriously and returned to his room after a large dinner. He took a long shower-still not too hot-and changed into some lounge clothes. He set up a chessboard in case Bones fancied a few games before bed.

"Come on in," he called when the door knocked. "I set up a chess game."

"Excellent. Chess can be a very relaxing mental exercise."

Jim whirled around. "Spock?! What are you doing here?"

"Dr. McCoy has asked me to keep you company while he works his shift. He said that you require lengthy personal anecdotes to fall asleep."

"You've got to be kidding me," Jim moaned. "He is so done for."

"So where shall I begin?" Spock asked, sitting primly on the bed.

Jim rolled his eyes but sat down. "At the beginning. And don't leave anything out."


End file.
